Is it time for a nap yet?

What I've seen living up north all my life is the huge emotional stock lots of cishet white men put into football, especially during events like the world cup.

If the stats are true that domestic violence increases regardless of win, lose or draw, then that speaks volumes about how unhealthy the emotional investment is.

Because usually these men are going to the pub. Not taking their wives or kids. They're going with mates and drinking alcohol for at least the duration of the match, usually longer. They're loud and unrestrained and are allowed to feel angry or happy or upset, just for the small amount of time the match is on, because all their male peers are doing the same.

So when the match is over, they're either left with a high they can't maintain without the match and the circumstances around it, or they're left in a low emotional state with no healthy outlet. Either way, their family always comes off worse because outside of footie night, dad has no other way of properly expressing or experiencing his own emotions.

This has been happening all my life and definitely longer, and it's an age-old symptom of toxic masculinity, of men shutting off their feelings (and subsequently being overwhelmed by them), of putting all their energy into something that actually has no bearing on their own lives but makes them feel accepted by their peers.

And as ever, women bear the brunt of it.

Then maybe...

Maybe...

fuckin DEEEEE LICH YUSSSSSSS enough to turn a lich into a benevolent living saint full of care bear stare

turkish coffee ice cream, saffron rose water ice cream, mochi bubble waffle, pistachios and honey.

i was hesitant on the saffron rose water because rose water can quiiiickly become cloyingly doomed but oh man. ohhhhman.

"Look everyone, we're certain things are only going to get worse from here, because our maid wants to murder us for some reason."

"Dear, it may be because you called her a slut and beat her senseless."

"Ignore my wife. Anyway, luckily, we have a cunning plan so that at least Elizabeth can buy some time."

Read more.

Like I said, the museum was a pretty snotty institution. It’s got a LOT of objects it’s way famous for possessing, but nobody knew about the absolutely massive collection of Moche erotic pottery it had because the curators were totally embarrassed by this stuff.

Some examples:

Pretty hot shit, right? They never, ever put any of this stuff on public view or published it in any catalogues but - we legit had like several hundred pieces of Moche ceramics in the “dirty pots” category. Anyway, I was left alone to just do my job with regard to the database for several years, ok? And I figured, well, these’re accessioned objects in the museum’s collection - better get down to bidness. 

I catalogued every goddamn bestiality, necrophiliac, cocksucking, buttfucking, detached penis, and giant vulva drinking cup in that collection. I’d be like, 

A drinking vessel in form of a standing man wearing a tunic and cap. He holds an oversized erection in his hands and stares into the distance (note I did not say “like he’s hella-constipated”). The vessel has a hole at both the tip of the penis as well as around the rim of the figure’s head, thus forcing the drinker to drink only from the penis or risk spilling wine all over themselves from the top of the vessel. Red and orange slip covers the surface of the piece.

Pretty straightforward, right? Apparently the deep seated fear of these objects that the curators exhibited was meant to spread to me as well, but - no one ever gave me that memo, because I guess Midwesterners reproduce asexually. When the curators understood that I had catalogued all of these objects in addition to the other, non-sexy pieces in the collection, they were apparently livid, but knew they had no legs to stand on in terms of getting pissed at me for it. 

I visited the museum’s online public access database a few years back and - every single description I wrote of these pieces has been totally neutered to say something like Male figural vase.